


An Uchiha's Devotion

by Unquiet_Words



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sibling Incest, Warring States Period (Naruto)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 21:31:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unquiet_Words/pseuds/Unquiet_Words
Summary: The real reason Izuna so protested the war was a selfish one, and it was guilt that finally made him let it go and accept defeat.He was pleasantly surprised to learn he'd been wrong all along.





	An Uchiha's Devotion

It was in an Uchiha’s nature to put love first. The very blood in their veins demanded it, sang out its fury at the thought betraying those precious to them, those they should hold above all else. The ones most driven to protect their loved ones were the ones gifted with power, after all, and none in their clan would deny the necessity of both.

For that very reason, it had never bothered Izuna that they were brothers. It wasn’t unheard of for siblings to be drawn together, grief and the loss of mutual loved ones only making the surviving ties stronger. And not a single one of their clansmen or clanswomen had batted an eyelash at their not so subtle relationship, only bowing their heads in respect as they always had.

Their bond as siblings had always been a point of pride for Izuna, so it wasn’t guilt from being brothers that clenched at his heart. Blood was still dripping slow down Madara’s cheek, his eyes shut as they always were after battle, their bare chests pressed together and heaving. His brother’s hair was a tangled mess about them, made worse by how Izuna’s fingers had worked and tugged through it during their love-making, fucking, whatever one would call it.

His eyes needed to be wrapped. He shoved at his brother’s shoulder to get him to roll off, the both of them hissing as he pulled out of him. It had been rougher than normal, though that was no surprise to Izuna at this point. Madara was always more eager and frantic after a battle with  _him_. He swallowed against the thought, slipping out of the futon to fetch the bandages left out on the nightstand.

Getting Madara to sit up was a process. Whoever feared his brother had clearly never dealt with him for any length of time, because Izuna knew all too well how much of a man child their esteemed clan head could be. He grumbled and protested and huffed the entire time, and flopped them both over as soon as he decided they were done. Izuna was left glaring up at him from where his face had been smooshed into a still sweaty chest, doing his best to rearrange his legs to be more comfortable while dealing with the iron grip around him.

If it had been any other day, he would have griped and complained right back at him. But today his glare had no bite, fingernails digging gently into his brother’s shoulder as he drew himself closer. Madara had always burned hotter than the rest of their family, though not even that could comfort him today, the image of him on the battlefield drowning out almost everything else. Red armor splattered dark with the few he managed to fell before his gunbai met an equal blade, his enemy speaking in a hushed voice but Izuna’s eyes seeing it all, knowing without hearing every word that passed those lips.

And knowing that, this time, Madara hadn’t stayed quiet in turn.

His brother had never wanted to be a part of this war. Despite his love for battle, so deeply ingrained into his being that he called it  _dancing_ with his opponents and felt no shame at how ridiculous it sounded, Madara loathed standing across from the Senju, everything in his stance screaming how he hated to draw his weapons against his childhood friend and his clan.

Friend. The word felt wrong even on his mind’s tongue, made him loosen his grip on the strong arm holding him close. By Madara’s own admission he thought of them as  _brothers_ , and Izuna knew all too well what it meant to be adopted into an Uchiha family. Not to mention what he’d seen at the river all those years ago, what he’d conveniently left out of his report to their father.

What had disgusted him as a child, and haunted him every night since they’d first fallen into bed together.

“Do you think the clan would follow? If you made peace with them.” He didn’t bother looking up to see the shock on Madara’s face, keeping his focus on one of the freckles that dusted across chest.

“Doesn’t matter. They’d either follow or be left behind.”

He shifted, managing to maneuver onto his side and pull his brother with him. “So you think that-”

“Zuna, let’s not- I don’t want to fight right now.” The interruption wasn’t all that surprising, and the sharp admission was followed shortly by fingers working their way through his hair, Madara’s face drawn down into a troubled scowl.

Of course, he’d think that. They’d fought countless times before about the same subject, on how the Senju could not be trusted, how his brother had been foolish to ever see  _that man_  as anything other than an Uchiha killer.

If it hadn’t been for those very arguments, Madara would have left the war behind them years ago. But Izuna had been stubborn and selfish, desperate to keep his brother from what he really wanted.

He was an Uchiha. It was in his nature to put love above all else. And yet there he laid, clutching at his brother’s back, the bandage already turning pink from how damaged his eyes were, Madara stroking his hair and the both of them a mess from their coupling - and he knew full well it wasn’t him his brother loved.

“Talk to him.” The words hurt more than he could have even imagined, leaving his throat tight in their absence. He felt his brother shift away, tilting his head to look down out of habit but he forced himself on before he could speak. “Send a missive by hawk tomorrow. I’m sure  _he’d_  love to hear from you.”

“Wait, you mean...?” The hesitant hope that tinted his brother’s words had his gut twisting, but Izuna was determined to face his defeat with dignity, laying still and refusing to admit how it tore him apart to lose to such a fool of a man. “You’ll support us then?”

Not able to bring himself to respond, Izuna simply nodded his head, taking a moment to savor the warmth wrapped around him. There was no telling now how long he had left, how much longer he’d be allowed to be the replacement his brother never wanted in the first place.

An almost inaudible “kai” brought Izuna right out of his definitely-not-wallowing, and he made sure to give a harsh pinch to his brother’s side. “It’s me, idiot!”

“Well how am I supposed to know that? Can’t just spring that shit on me out of no where!”

Izuna rolled his eyes at his brother’s undignified squawking. “What, is it so hard to believe I’ve ‘seen the light’?” He was pinched right back for his sass, and he most certainly did  _not_  yelp at the assault against his already sour ass cheek. He  _did_  glare up at his brother, who he knew even blindfolded could feel his angry gaze. The smirk said as much anyway. “And,  _yes_ , I mean it.” With another huff, he settled back down against his brother’s chest, trying his best to keep his tone neutral. “Suppose peace couldn’t be all that bad. Nice break from the whole family dying stuff. And, I guess, you know. You two would be good together.”

“It really won’t be bad, Zuna. Just imagine.” Madara’s voice took on that dreamy tone, hushed into a whisper and still a little raw from physical exertion. “No more child soldiers, they could have actual  _lives_  instead of fighting. And with less resources going to the war, we wouldn’t have to worry about the food stores during the winter. No more small graves, no starvation - and the  _village_. If we build our village, we could convince farmers to move in, and we could  _eat_  again. Like we used to growing up. And... Zuna?”

“Hm?”

“What do you mean, ‘you two would be good together’?”

Logically, Izuna knew hiding his face would do him no good. Madara couldn’t see him at the moment anyway. But he did it anyway, shoving his nose right into the crook of his neck, right against the marks he’d bitten into his brother’s skin not half an hour ago. “I’m not the one’s who’s going blind, nii-san. I know how you feel.”

He wanted to be a good brother. Wanted to add that he’d support them the whole way, would be there for Madara no matter what he chose. But he found his goodwill was tapped out at the moment and all he could do was clutch at the back at his fingertips, trying desperately to hold on to what he knew wasn’t his to begin with.

“What on earth are you even talking about?”

The honest confusion only managed to irritate him, causing him to snap even as he held on tighter. “Stop playing dumb! It’s suits you too well.” Before his brother could snark right back at him, Izuna slapped a hand over his mouth to cut him off. “Have you forgotten that I was  _there_ , nii-san? I saw you two  _macking_  on each other.”

Madara’s red faced sputtering usually made him at least snicker, but not even that could lighten his mood at the moment. “ _We were not_ macking- it was just-  _it was one kiss, that’s it!”_

“One kiss?”

“ _Yes_ , just one kiss! And it’s perfectly normal for two growing men to-”

“I swear to god, if you say ‘ _experiment with each other’_ , I’m disowning you.”

It was pure talent that Madara managed to convey his displeasure so well without the use of his eyes. Instead of finishing his thought, no doubt to keep from being disowned by the last living member of his family, he bent down in search of his brother’s mouth. It wasn’t exactly the reaction Izuna had expected, but he found he couldn’t complain much beyond noting Madara’s lips were horribly chapped again. They’d be cracking come winter if he didn’t pick the useless clod up some more balm.

“Is that what this has been about?” Only on a handful of occasions had Izuna ever heard his brother speak so softly. Only ever when it was just the two of them, in the few moments Madara was allowed to be soft and gentle, allowed to be something other than the tyrant and war god his clan had made him. “Is that why you didn’t want us to make peace?”

Part of him had always recognized how shitty his reasoning had been. That particular part of him also knew he was the  _only reason_  Madara hadn’t accepted  _his_  hand yet. He was the only thing holding his brother back from ending the war, ending what even he recognized as a needless cycle of death. The last several years of fighting was his doing, no one else’s, and even though his brother hadn’t outright said that they both knew it was true.

“Izuna.” He heard the tell-tale sound of slipping cloth, and a hand was under his chin, tilting his head up to meet the spinning tomoe of his brother’s sharingan.

Never in his life had he feared his clan’s dōjutsu, let alone felt even the smallest twinge of legitimate fear towards his brother. It almost felt like a betrayal of his trust to feel it now, his own eyes flickering away before he could force himself to maintain eye contact.

“You should be resting your eyes, nii-san.”

His rather legitimate concerns went ignored in favor of Madara shoving him to his back, his brother looming over him, the late evening sun peeking through the window lighting the curtain of his hair ablaze.

The Uchiha were know for their affinity with cats, but Madara was no domestic feline, prim and proper and waiting to be fed. He was a tiger, a stalker in the dark, all wild muscle and shaggy mane and ravenous gaze as he eyed the prey trapped beneath him.

“Did I not make myself clear enough for you, otouto?” The name sent electricity down his spine, any fear he might have felt gone, the near feral glint in red eyes sending his blood south.

Maybe, just this once, it wouldn’t be so bad to be caught.

If Izuna had been anyone else, it probably would have unnerved him how intently Madara’s sharingan studied his every movement. How his brother seemed determined to capture every twitch of his muscles, bask in every moan and catch every drop of sweat that beaded on his skin as he fucked him into their futon once more. He hadn’t bothered with foreplay but that had mattered little when he had already been gaped open on his brother’s cock not an hour before, still slick with the remnants of lube and seed from when he’d oh so graciously spilled into him earlier. It was hardly enough to take away all of the burn, but pain had always been a part of their lives, and the extra friction only made his blood burn faster, made his eyes roll back with each snap of his brother’s hips.

He should have noticed the fresh blood sooner. But it was hard to see anything past the sparks of light invading his vision with every thrust that even so much as grazed against that bundle of nerves that tore incoherent noises out of his throat.

Madara didn’t let up, not a stutter in his pace even as he hiked one of Izuna’s legs over his shoulder to reach just that single in deeper. The shift in angle was the only reason he saw the blood now, eyes blown open just long enough from the sudden harsh impact on his prostate.

“Nii-san, your eyes.”

He would have been surprised if Madara could understand him at all, his words fading before they could reach his own ears, drowned out by the litany of pleading whimpers and whines that had his face and neck equally flushed in horror.

It was then that Madara slowed, though only just, one hand reaching out to brush against his cheek, the other still gripped tight on his leg to keep it steady.

“Let them lose their light.” His thumb brushed against his lower lip, and Izuna was quick to tilt his head forward to suck it in, preening with how his brother’s pupils dilated with interest, how it made his rhythm unsteady at just the hint of what he could do with his tongue. It was a little disappointing to find it didn’t render him speechless, but only a little. He’d always loved his brother’s voice, almost certain he could get off just from listening to him some days.

Judging from that stupid smirk, Madara was well aware of that, too. And the bastard was taking full advantage of his weakness, leaning over to speak filth between them.

“Nothing can take this sight from me now. You, writhing beneath me, taking my cock so well. Being  _so good_  for me, aren’t you, otouto?”

He felt his sanity slipping, fingernails ripping into the white sheets beneath them, one hand scrambling for his own aching need, cock left weeping and untouched and  _so close_.

But Madara had no pity for him. His hand was snatched up just as it found its mark, and no amount of desperate tugging would get him to release it.

“Who do you belong to?”

The question threw him off-guard for only a moment, the answer being as much a part of him as the heart beating a frantic rhythm in his chest. “ _Aaahhh, y-you, nii-san!”_

It seemed that answer was enough. With a satisfied grunt, Madara wrapped both of their hands around his neglected cock. Knowing it would take only a few strokes to send him over the edge, Izuna did his best to take his brother with him, clamping down hard enough to have Madara double over from pleasure. He only had a moment to take pride in finally snapping through his self-control before the white bliss of release ripped through him, a shout echoing in his ears though he knew not which one of them let it loose.

He had managed only a few breaths before the air was knocked out of his lungs, Madara slipping out of him once more and all but collapsing down on his chest. This time, he fumbled for the bandages himself, shoving them into Izuna’s hand before either of them had had time enough to calm down.

Tying the bandage on with his brother refusing to move so much as an inch off of him proved even more difficult than the first time, and his brain was so fogged down Izuna wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to do it. After making sure it wouldn’t slip off on its own, he let his hands fall back to the bed, body humming away and the overwhelming heat of his brother burning into him like nothing else ever could.

“You know I keep what’s mine, right?”

His simple hum belied the relief that followed those words, but he was too exhausted to respond any further. Whatever else that needed to be said could wait until the morning, and this time Izuna was going to make sure they thoroughly discussed  _everything_. As much as he’d enjoyed every second of Madara fucking his point across, if how sore it was already was anything to go by his ass would not be thanking either of them later.

**Author's Note:**

> I meant for this to be, like, a 1K drabble. But SOMEONE *cough cough _Izuna_ cough cough* wouldn't stop being angsty long enough to _hop up on that dick_.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Brother's Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17842727) by [yetanotherauthor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yetanotherauthor/pseuds/yetanotherauthor)




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